


Thomas's Love Playbook

by esther81828



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4106509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esther81828/pseuds/esther81828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas always considered himself some normal, nun-specific teenager without any oddity or peculiar thing. He was not quite popular with his peers, so he wouldn’t be a part of those cool-kids groups; but he was not quite a nerd-o either, so he wouldn’t be accepted by those kids always wearing T-shirts with some weird bands’ names on them. He was only him. That was Thomas who always were and would be in the future—totally on his own, with one or two best friend(s) by his side. He would live a normal but decent life, meet some normal but decent girl, and die a normal and decent death. And he was fine with that.</p><p>Until he saw that boy named Minho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *AU story, Thominho. 
> 
> No original story spoiling, so just feel free to read :)  
> I am not sure if it will be another chapter about this. So. 
> 
> Enjoy :D

Thomas never thought that he would have such a huge crush on guys. Ever.  
He’d always considered himself some normal, nun-specific teenager without any oddity or peculiar thing. He was not quite popular with his peers, so he wouldn’t be a part of those cool-kids groups; but he was not quite a nerd-o either, so he wouldn’t be accepted by those kids always wearing T-shirts with some weird bands’ names on them. He was only him. That was Thomas who always were and would be in the future—totally on his own, with one or two best friend(s) by his side. He would live a normal but decent life, meet some normal but decent girl, and die a normal and decent death. And he was fine with that.

Until he saw that boy named Minho.

There was no such thing as those Hollywood kind of romance, nothing dramatic at all. He didn’t even talk with him. In fact, at that first sight, he was sure that Minho didn’t notice his existence.

He was just walking with his best and only friend, Teresa, who was his best friend and neighbor since he was in the kindergarten, while he saw a group of loud kids walking toward the school theater’s gate. He knew little about the troupe, since he was only in here for a few months, but he had still heard about them every now and then. They were that kind of cool kids—throwing-endless-fancy-party-and-hanging-around-all-the-time-and-never-needing-to-worry-about-their-futures kind of kids. Thomas always saw them took over the tables at the center of the cafeteria, speaking loudly and carelessly, as if they were the only kids there, as if they own the whole place. And maybe they truly did.

And there was that one particular Asian kid. Thomas never really noticed him in the cafeteria or around the school buildings, but that night, when he and Teresa ran into them randomly, he discovered that he couldn’t take his eyes off of the Asian.

He wasn’t certain what made him feel that way. Maybe it was that boy’s half-lipped smile, or maybe it was his shrugging seemed casual and careless. Or maybe it was just his figure, his wide, broad shoulders and his straight back, his standing tall and walking with confidence. It was like a spotlight coming from nowhere shining directly above him and only above him, all glowing and glittering, and all of a sudden all Thomas could see and hear was that boy’s arced eyes and laughter.

“What, you know them?” Teresa asked him alongside.

“Nah. Not really.” Thomas forced himself turn his head to her. “Who was that kid? The Asian?”

“You mean Minho?” Teresa said with an eyebrow rising, “What about him?”

“Nothing, just asking.” Thomas answered.

Minho. He repeated this name in his head. And then he knew that it was different. The feeling was something new, not anything like he ever felt with other kids, or more specifically—girls. Not like when with Teresa.

And it took some more days for him to realize that this was something more, more than he wanting to be his friend. When they occasionally had some small talk—he didn’t even sure why they’d talked in the first place—Thomas had to admit to himself he was fond of Minho, partly because of his sometime mean but always funny words and partly because of something beyond his brain to comprehend, and the words “having a crush” finally appeared in Thomas’s brain.

He was gay. He was having a crush on an Asian boy who was from one of the coolest groups in high school.


	2. Chapter 2-1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Here i am again.  
> Hope you guys enjoy the chapter :))

“So, Tuesday night, right?” Teresa asked, “It’s for sure, right? You’re not gonna change it, are you?”

“Yeah, for sure. No more changing.” Thomas replied.

Teresa leaned backward against the blue plastic chair, holding a paper cup of orange juice in her hand, biting on the straw, smiling at him. “Great. Don’t eat your words again. You’re fat enough.”

Though he knew it was part of a joke, Thomas looked down on his belly. The muscle under the fabric of the T-shirt was not developed well enough, but it was definitely nothing near the fatness. Thomas protested, “Don’t say it like I always do that to you. I mean, be fair, I’d always tell you after I know I couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah, right,” Teresa rolled her eyes, “Let me think about that. Last time, you called me five minutes later of our meeting time and told me you had to deliver the clothes to the laundry. And the time before that, you were trapped by someone from your English class, so you couldn’t meet me on time. Oh yeah, and don’t forget…”

“Okay, Teresa. God,” Thomas held up his hands. “You know what my mom’s like. She’d be all ‘if you want to stay at home then you will stay at home the whole next month.’ She can’t care less if I am just ready to head to another meeting or anything. And about that English—”

“We’ve already discussed about that, we don’t have to do this again,” Teresa grinned. “I am not blaming you or anything, you know. I’m just feeling like, you always try to be someone else’s hero, and just kick your friend—and I’m talking ‘bout your _best_ friend—aside.”

Thomas looked at her. Teresa looked relax, her thick eyebrows across her face, forming two gentle arches on it. She was just kidding, but what she had said was like blaming indeed.

Thomas knew she was right. This was not the first time Teresa talking about this hero theory, which she mentioned before as _savior behavior_. Teresa had said that he seemed to have problems with saying no to those asking for his help, said that he loved to be the savior, as if thinking that it was his obligation. Thomas couldn’t deny that, since he sometimes really enjoyed the feeling of being a hero—trying to stop those bullies robbing someone of his snack at the locker, helping teachers on some assignments, or something like that. But it couldn’t be his fault, he thought, everyone wanted to get some attention, whether they admitted or not. Everyone would want to be a shining star at some point, want to be someone more important than who he or she was.

But the pathetic fact was, he didn’t get much attention when he acted like that. If it really had something about this savior behavior, then it wasn’t as effective as it should be at all. Who was he, really? He was only a freshman who got into this high school couple months ago. In those bullies’ eyes, he was less noticeable than the pebbles on the pavement. No one would give a heck what he did—they just ignored him completely. There was only one time, when he tried to shove himself between the bully and the freak, he got pushed away and fell heavily and awkwardly onto the ground. And the one who helped him got up was no one else but Teresa standing next to him. When she adjusted the straps of his backpack, she muttered to him, “Idiot. Don’t let yourself be the next one on the target.”

So, yeah, he might have something about savior behavior. But Teresa was saying like he was that kind of boy who would ditch his friend for some girls—boys, to be more specific—he liked.

“Oh, please—”

“No, I am not jealous, okay?” Teresa said, “In fact, you should be grateful that your best friend is a generous new-age girl. I just want to make sure that nothing will delay our history assignment this time. You sure you’re okay for that time?”

“One hundred percent sure.” Thomas said, “Tuesday, at Macy’s, seven p.m. If I ditch you this time, I will buy you lunch for the next whole week.”

This statement made Teresa grinned slyly. “Deal.”

Thomas knew he had made it a little too big, but he would not let her down this time. He would never want to kick Teresa aside—they walked the same route home, after all.

Thomas almost couldn’t not be Teresa’s friend. They were neighbors from the very day they got born; the front yards of their houses were only separated by a row of short fence. They would always looked at each other, literally, in the face since kindergarten. Their mothers would walked them there, chatting along the road, and Thomas couldn’t even dare to look at her in the eyes from the beginning. Teresa was such an energetic girl in her childhood, and her restlessness scared him. When she first talked to him, that “hello” she gave out was just like a roar of a lioness. Teresa would always play with other boys in the playground; she could swing higher than anyone, till she almost got upside down on the top of the swing, and she could do more pull-ups than any other boys.

The only thing Thomas could beat her was running. After challenged again and again by her, Thomas finally agreed to race with her reluctantly. They drew the starting line on the playground of the kindergarten with a marker, and assigned the wall on the opposite side was the finish line. A boy yelled for them to get set and started running. Thomas dashed out, and when he reached the wall, looking back panting and sweating, he saw that Teresa was just getting across the sandbox, still getting one third of the road to run.

They’d become friends after that. They went to school together, growing up into their teens together. Time didn’t make a distance between them. Every teenager had a time hating the opposite genders, but not them. Adolescence didn’t change Thomas’s feeling of Teresa; in fact, of all the characteristics of Teresa, her gender was definitely not one of them.

It was when some girl from school asked if Thomas and Teresa were couple that he was finally aware that Teresa was a girl. The word “female” had finally got into his brain, no longer only a sign outside of the restrooms.

But it didn’t change the way they got along with each other, either. Teresa was part of his family. They slept over at each other’s house and had dinner in each other’s dining room countless times. The friendship between them was nothing like between other boys and girls.

So. Yeah. He would never kick Teresa away.

They continued their lunches. Thomas had French fried, honey mustard dressing, ketchup, and a pack of BBQ chips on his tray, while Teresa had a plate of salad for herself. Thomas never knew how one could have salad as lunch, especially when one didn’t even have any dressing for it.

The double doors of the cafeteria were swung open again, this time with much more strength. A cluster of talking voices drifted into the room with the wind, floating into Thomas’s ears. Thomas looked up, but before he saw the comers, he had already knew they were the theater group.

Thomas could hear Minho’s voice among the others. He hadn’t figured out why his voice could always pass the crowd and reach Thomas’s ears faster than others. Maybe it was something about his accent—Minho was an American Korean, but he still had this accent making him sounded different from the other white people. Thomas guessed it was because they still spoke in Korean at home. But Thomas didn’t mind his accent at all—in fact, he found that it was another little thing that made Minho so special.

The theater group headed to their usual table as Thomas followed them with his eyes, Minho walking through them. When they reached the aisle parallel with Thomas’s table, he saw Minho turned to talk to one boy of the group. The boy was named Newt, whom Thomas had had some small chats with. Minho pointed at Thomas’s direction and rose his eyebrow to Newt, and Newt pursed his lips together at first and crossed his arms, and then he shrugged, waving his hand like _whatever_. And then Minho walked out of the group, heading towards Thomas.

“Hello, Thomas,” Minho strode to the table, propping his hands on it. Teresa lifted an eyebrow to him, and he added as if finally noticing her existence, “Teresa.”

Thomas wasn’t sure where his hostility towards Teresa came from. Teresa never said anything improper to him, in fact, they didn’t even talk much. Teresa was there when Minho invited Thomas to hang out with his group couple times after school, and the kids in the group actually got along pretty well with her. Everyone except Minho. He almost totally ignored her. It seemed like none of the, had noticed that, and to be honest, Thomas was only feel suspicious about it. They acted like it was just they didn’t have anything in common, but Thomas knew better than that. If it was Minho, he wouldn’t have nothing to say. If he didn’t talk to you, it was because he didn’t want to.

“Hey,” Thomas pulled his hands away from the table instinctively, putting them into the pockets of his jacket. His fingers were still greasy from the French fried, but he had to hide it away in case Minho saw him clenched them into fists. Despite having known him for a while, Thomas still felt kind of uneasy talking to him. Perhaps it was because he was nervous, perhaps it was because awkward, Thomas didn’t know for sure. What would one feel when facing a boy he/she liked?

Thomas had never fallen for anyone, ever. Not before Minho, at least. In fact, it was when he began to realize what it was like falling for someone when Minho showed up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys will like it!  
> Enjoy :D

Before getting into middle school, Thomas thought he liked Teresa. It was a vague kind of fondness, an ambiguous adjective. He liked to stay with her, liked to lie on Teresa’s bed, looking at the stickers of starry sky on her bedroom ceiling, chattering about their dreams to be astronauts together when they grew up or to be engineers in NASA; he liked to watch Teresa laughing out loud, liked to hear her tomboy-like statements.

And he appreciated the wordless connection between them. They both loved to spread Oreos into the milkshake, and they loved Swiss chocolate ice cream. They love to butter their toasts with strawberry jam and peanut butter, and had it as breakfast along with a huge glass of orange juice. Thomas would know she was about to call him idiot when she plumped her cheeks, and though she’d never admitted it, Thomas knew that she loved SpongeBob shows as hell.

Being around Teresa gave him a sense of relax, as natural as breathing. When being asked if they were couple, Thomas even began to wonder if it was really just like that being together with someone. He’d never seriously considered the word girlfriend, and didn’t after the questioning. Teresa had never asked him about it, either, as though it was too much of a cliché, too childish, deciding that their friendship was much further beyond the confine of the word.

There was nothing resembled the feeling between he and Teresa when he got along with other girls. But when it came to Minho, God, it was something entirely different.

Just like the reaction of his heartbeats speeding up like hell. Thomas always thought those romance fictions and movies exaggerated this symptom too much, but as now he had experienced it himself, he’d know that it was nothing overstated. Just simply standing next to Minho would make his palms sweating. He could almost hear his own heart pounding against his chest, though he knew it was just another evidence to prove the chaos in his mind.

When Minho talked to him for the first time, Thomas thought he would leap up from the railing outside the school entrance. It was before the first period, Thomas was chattering with Teresa about something that he couldn’t remember clearly right now. As Minho spoke, Thomas had forgotten where his talking with Teresa had been to. For those few seconds, all shifting back and forth in his head was Minho’s voice.

“You’re Thomas, right?”

The backpack dangled from Minho’s shoulder, he stuck his hands in the pockets, lifting his eyebrows towards Thomas.

“Uh, yeah,” Thomas replied. “What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” Minho said. “Just stopping by and saying hello. It doesn’t really have to be a reason, does it.”

“But I barely know you,” Thomas said, and almost immediately regretted it as the words spilled out of his mouth.

This statement made Minho burst out a laughter. “Oh, but I bet you want to.”

“What?”

“You don’t think I couldn’t hear you, do you?” Minho pointed his finger between Thomas and Teresa, drawing some invisible arches in the air. It was the first time in this conversation that he mentioned Teresa’s existence. “Because then you’re much dumber than you’ve ever imagined. The day before yesterday, you just walked past us outside the theater. You asked her who I am.”

Thomas had several wordless seconds. He did not think Minho should’ve heard him, really. The first image emerged in his brain was that night when he occasionally ran into them. He tried to estimate the distance between them, tried to figure out that whether it was a hearable distance or not. The second thought couldn’t even be counted as a thought, since it was just three simple words: _Oh my God._

He didn’t notice he was flushing until Minho pointed it out.

“No need to get nervous like some little girl,” Minho guaranteed, “I don’t bite.”

“Oh, okay,” Thomas answered, and feeling like a fool in the next second.

“ _Oh, okay,_ ” Minho mimicked his tone and shook his head. “Don’t act like a dumb-ass, alright?”

Thomas barely could stop himself from giving the same answer again, instead he just shrugged. Minho grinned at that. “Not bad,” he said. “Later.”

He shoved open the gate and got into the building, Thomas watching his figure disappeared behind the doors. It was when Teresa pushed on his shoulder that reminding him she was still there. Thomas blinked once, twice.

“Get back into yourself, Thomas,” she said. “Your palms are going to be bleeding if you keep clenching up like that.”

Thomas finally noticed that his fingernails were poked into his hands, pressing on the railing, and now it began to sting. Thomas relieved his fists, shaking his arms.

“Well, dreams come true, huh?” Teresa smiled teasingly.

“What’re you talking about?” Thomas jumped down the railing.

“Minho,” Teresa said. “He seems to want to know you. Perfect.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. You saw the way he talked? He is just a douchebag, that’s all.”

They headed toward the gate. “But you like it, anyway,” Teresa looked at him sideway, the mischievous smile on her face widened. “Look at you.” She fanned the air near her neck, letting out a breath.

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Thomas repeated.

But during the four periods before lunch time, Thomas had almost listened to nothing of what his teachers said. He couldn’t help replaying the conversation with Minho in his head, and he told himself that Teresa was right. He liked it indeed.


End file.
